


The Moth Demon

by Wazza



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Death, Depression, I guess backstory?, Mention of somewhat attempted suicide, Mentions of Rape, No actual sexual acts, Sorry I’m putting all of these here for trigger warnings, Swearing, Torture I suppose, mention of cutting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wazza/pseuds/Wazza
Summary: How exactly did Vaggie die?
Relationships: Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	The Moth Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Back again with another fic, sorry for taking so long lmao :’)  
> The main reason I wanted to write this is because Vaggie’s cause of death is unknown, according to the wiki, so I wanted to make my own interpretation! This takes place in El Salvador, so all interactions will be in Spanish, but written in English.  
> Even though her real name is Vagatha, I’m going to be referring to her as Vaggie just for the sake of simplicity haha
> 
> Enjoy!

How?

How did she get herself stuck in this mess? 

Vaggie buried her head in her arms. God, she was so tired. 

No. No. She wouldn’t cry. She was stronger than this. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of making her cry. She wouldn’t let them break her. She couldn’t let them break her.

She was in a small room, which as far as she knew, was completely empty. But she wouldn’t care if it wasn’t empty anyways, she would only sit in the same corner of the place. The room was almost pitch black, there wasn’t a window or even a light.

She couldn’t remember all the details about how she got here, it felt like so long ago. Speaking of which, how long had she even been in this stupid building? A month, three, a year? Her mind was so foggy. 

She had been...at a party. Was that right? A bar, maybe? A man had flirted with her. He asked her number. She told him no. Then...then what? Someone...he...he knocked her out. Was that what happened? And she woke up in this same room. She would only be in here, except for once every day, when a man would...she stifled a sob. No. Don’t let them see her cry. 

She hated this feeling. She felt pathetic. Powerless. No matter what she did, what profanities she’d yell, no matter how many black eyes she’d give and receive, nothing changed. She had even gone and tried to make herself look disfigured. She hunched her back, bit her nails, pulled out her hair, she had even cut herself, but nothing. She had even slammed her head against the wall, trying to kill herself, just to end it, but she couldn’t bring herself to just finish herself off. No. If she would die, she’d die fighting. What would...what would her mother think? God, where even was her mother? Did she...did she care that Vaggie could be dead right now? Has she even noticed that her daughter had disappeared? No, she would know. They were both extremely close. She swore to herself she’d escape, she’d escape and find her mother. She missed her mom. She wanted to be back in her embrace. 

She wanted to be loved again. 

What she had with these, ugh, could she even call them people? With these demons, these pieces of filth, that wasn’t love. Even if they told her, so many times, that they loved her, it was false. It was only because she pleasured them. They had destroyed her. Reduced her to nothing more than scum, a slut. That’s all she was. Some prostitute. Some sick form of pleasure.

She hated herself. She hated herself, and she hated these men, for making her hate herself. 

She was so, so tired.

The door of the room opened. Light flooded into the room, stunning the woman. Because of the darkness she was surrounded by, her vision had been substantially diminished. She could barely see the figure of the man in front of her, before squinting and straining her eyes. No. No. 

“Get up.”

“No. Leave me the fuck alone. I’m not going with you.”

“Get up.” He repeated, his voice growing impatient.

“I said no. I’m not your fucking slut.” 

She would always do this. Anything to piss them off. She wasn’t a robot. She had her own control.

The man walked over to her, and Vaggie instinctively looked away. He grabbed her chin with one hand and harshly forced her to look right at him. In the other hand, he grabbed both of her wrists, so she couldn’t attempt to gut punch him. He knew her legs were weak. 

“Well, too bad you are.” 

And with that, he slammed her head against the wall. Vaggie stifled a cry. 

“You’re nothing, you hear me? You’re a nobody. You’re worse than shit, worse than a fucking rat. You’re lucky I’m keeping you alive. You’re lucky that you belong to me. If it weren’t for me, you’d be ten feet underground.”

She hated him. She hated him because he was right. She was nothing. Nobody. An item. She’d be used, then discarded. That’s what she was. But she wouldn’t let him know she knew this. She stared him straight in the eye, and spit on his face. 

This angered the man more. “You fucking bitch.” He slammed her face into the wall this time, at an angle that bruised her right eye. It hurt. It hurt so much. But she looked right at him. 

“I’m going to get out of here. I don’t care what it takes, but I’m getting out of this fucking place,” She hissed. “You’re not in control of me, you don’t fucking own me.” Although her mind said otherwise, the words spilled out of her mouth. 

The man sneered at her. “Really? And what are you going to do once you get out of here? You’re nothing but a whore. Nobody would accept you. Not even your mother.” Why. Why was he always right? She scowled at him. That pleased him. Fuck.

He let go of her face, but not her wrists. He pulled her up, and practically dragged her out of the room. No matter how much she struggled, she could never stop him. She could never stop them. She was never strong enough. Her legs were weak from sitting so often, and her arms were so thin that they didn’t pack enough muscle to actually hurt someone. 

Despite the fact she ate enough every day, although she wasn’t exactly the one eating, the men would practically shove the food down her throat, it was only just enough to keep her from starving. Nothing to help with her weight and give her a healthier look. Probably a kink for underweight girls. Fucking assholes.

Despite what people might think, the sex was never enjoyable. Regardless of whether or not the man did it well, there was always an emptiness inside it. But what did it matter? She was only there to pleasure them, not to be pleasured herself. She thought she was in a living Hell.

She hated men. She hated all of them. They had done this to her. For her, they were all the same. Even when she was just a teenager, men would try to seduce her. Even regardless of age difference. They’d grab her, touch her, even after she had harshly pushed them away, they’d always come back. Different men each time. She felt like she couldn’t trust anyone. 

The man dragged her into a room, shoving her onto the bed. He handcuffed her arms and legs, to stop her from fighting back. Despite being physically weak, Vaggie never stopped trying to attack her seducers. It proved annoying for all the men in this strange...facility, much to her glee. But this time, she barely put up a fight. She was strangely tired, More so than usual. 

The man ripped off her clothes, to Vaggie’s dismay. Her clothes were, well, basically rags. They irritated her skin, which caused her to scratch herself and get rashes, and although that would make her less attractive to the men, it still hurt. Every single time, they’d rip off her sad excuses for clothes, and expect her to be able to put them on again. Which surprisingly, she could. Her body had become small enough that the rags could still cover her. She hated her appearance, but it must be worth it in the end, right?

The man once again sneered at her, and stroked her face. “Since you were such a filthy bitch inside your room, I don’t think I’ll let you enjoy this.” He stopped stroking her and slapped her across the face. Vaggie kept her composure. The man slapped her again. A red mark appeared on half of her face, and started to turn purple. Hot tears threatened to escape her eyes. She blinked them away. No. She would be strong. 

The man smirked at the sight in front of him. She was fun to break. 

After the most painful session she had had in her life, the man shoved her back inside her room. 

“Behave next time, dirty slut.” He spit on the ground in front of her. She hated when he did that. He was basically saying that she wasn’t good enough to be spit on, that she was too pathetic. 

He slammed the door shut, once again leaving her inside the darkness. She crawled slowly to her usual corner, and waited. What she was waiting for, she didn’t even know. Any sort of rescue had long since escaped her mind. It had been too long, felt too long, for any sort of person to arrive and save her from this hell. 

She sighed exhaustedly. Her body felt as if it was shutting down. Everything hurt, but it was a far-away pain, more dull. She was so tired. Her mind went completely blank. She just wanted to sleep. She just wanted this to end. 

She put her head in her arms, and closed her eyes for the last time in her life.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp 
> 
> I hope I did Vaggie some justice, this is my first time really writing her. I imagine this is why she fights so hard for Charlie, because she doesn’t want to be weak. She can’t be weak. Believe it or not Vaggie is one of my favourite characters in Hazbin ahaha
> 
> I’m pretty sure that a ton of people have different head canons for Vaggie’s death, but if you liked this one, please let me know! And if you have any critiques, please feel free to share! 
> 
> I’ll be posting the next chapter soon ;D


End file.
